Telepathetic
by August8th
Summary: You just can't let work get to you, no matter how shitty the job is..


Telepathetic

_Fuckin jerk. _ I could have sworn he said it under his breath as I passed by. What's with all this hostility? I never did anything wrong to him.

Regardless, I continued my walk to work. It was Wednesday; the clear blue sky presented a beautiful scenario, making the city look much cleaner than it actually was.

Recently I've developed a skill that I dare not mention to those around me because I'd rather not be committed. I have become telepathic; I can read the minds of those around me within a certain range. No matter where I am or who I am around voices start brewing in my head, I can hear everything a person is thinking immediately after they come into range. Their thoughts have the person's voice, but with a sort of echo to it. For some unknown reason almost everyone has something negative to think, and for further unknown reasons, people direct most of these negative feelings towards me. I supposed they are courteous enough to keep it to themselves verbally, but the fact that they think negative thoughts at all, has been a question lingering in my mind since I acquired this power.

My name is Tom Leary and I work for a telemarketing company that does surveys for the public to find out any information that can be presented as a percentage. We have three hundred or so people working almost around the clock constantly dialing different numbers, constantly asking different questions for a myriad of different situations. Each person is assigned a specific survey each week, the more people we can complete surveys on the better. These questions are generally oriented towards advertising; we're basically just getting people's opinions in order to gauge how effective certain advertiser's messages are. This job is normally very simple, but at the same time very tiresome, plus the fact that every so often I can read the minds of the customers and get their honest opinions.

I arrived a few minutes late, passing by one of my co-workers; I smiled and nodded.

"Morning Luke." I said, trying to sound somewhat cheerful

"Morning." He replied. _You fucking slack bag._ If only he had said it out loud, I would have popped him one.

The office was full of life for a Wednesday morning, people already had their first customers and were chatting away happily, asking what brand name shoes they prefer, or types of clothing they buy, and so on.

Trying to maintain a good attitude is hard, especially with the notion that everyone hates you. I got to my cubicle and sat down; the paper with my survey of the week was stuck onto a board. Very few checkmarks appeared on my sheet, more hang ups than anything. You would figure after a total of sixteen hours on this survey I would have had more. This week's survey consisted of twenty brief questions about cell phones, such as what company, reception problems, pricing and all sorts of crap that can be turned into a statistic.

As the day progressed the checkmarks on my sheet maintained the same number, all I get were four "fuck offs", six "not interested", ten hang ups and one person even threatened to sue if he was ever bothered again. All in all, it had been an unsuccessful day and I hadn't even had lunch yet.

Lunch was broken down into four parts of the day. Depending on where you sat in the office determined what part or 'block' as the boss promptly put it, you were in. He also claimed this would increase productivity and numbers would be dialed consistently throughout the entire work day. I was in the second block, starting at noon and lasting for half an hour.

For the past few weeks lunch had become the most demoralizing activity of the day. From the second I walked into the lunchroom, to the second I left, I would be mentally assaulted by everyone.

_Jesus, here he comes again, I hope to Hell that rat bastard doesn't sit beside me. _Frank Fernando thought as I passed by.

_What's that smell? Oh wait, Leary's here. God I hate him._ Sue Carroll thought.

_Please, please, please don't sit here Leary, I can't stand you. _Another of my co-workers prayed to himself. No matter where I was, I was offending someone.

Sitting down to my left was an empty seat, to my right was John Campbell, he had worked in this office for years.

_Goddamnit! _ His mind screamed. He continued to eat his lunch and avoid eye contact.

I ate quickly, I hated being in there, it almost drove me mad. Slipping outside for a smoke was one of the very few things that kept me together throughout the day. Very few people in the office smoked, and luckily I was the only one in my block.

After the smoke I went to back to the office and tried to finish my quota which was looking once again unsuccessful. I really didn't feel like having to talk to more random people every ten minutes or so, it had started to seem really pointless.

Five o'clock rolled around and I had only gotten one successful survey completed. Making sure no one was coming, I checked off three more surveys making the day seem a little less pathetic. Hanging the survey sheet on the corkboard in from of my desk, I began to collect my things and get ready to leave.

"Leary? Where the fuck are ya?" A voice rang throughout the office. Standing up and raising my hand, I had already assumed it was my boss, now it was clear. I could see his fat little bald head from my cubicle, he was short, and all it looked like was a beige helmet like a midget desert commando on a bounty hunt for me. I think I've been in the wrong business for too damn long.

After the boss's assistant recognized me, he pointed in my direction and probably told him what direction to follow. It took about a minute for him to locate my cubicle.

"Listen Leary, I've heard some complaints about you and I'm not too goddamn happy about it." _You stupid little cunt. _I especially hated hearing the after thoughts of his statements; he always went no holds barred.

"Sorry sir, I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Don't play ignorant with me you halfwit! I'll have you're ass on a fucking platter by dinner tomorrow if you don't stop playing ignorant. God you're an ignorant bastard!" _Ignorant, I like that word, I think I'll use it more often._ I had to laugh, just a little.

"You think this is funny Leary!" He screamed.

"I'm sorry sir," acting as serious as possible, "but I still have no idea what I have done to get you so angry. If you could just calm down and tell me what I've done, I would have no problems justifying it."

"Did you just tell me, you're fucking employer, to calm down? Well, I've got news for you you goddamn ignorant bastard, this is calm! You haven't even seen me slightly pissed off! And if I was you," pausing to poke his chubby old finger into my shoulder. "I wouldn't push my luck in a situation like this, you're already in enough goddamn trouble as is, and now you go ahead and tell me, you're goddamn employer for Crissake, what to do?" Pausing for a second, I could see his face getting redder and redder. "Well, that's it Leary! You're outta here! Pack up all yer shit right the fuck right now!" He began stammering. I guess all of the bullshit was getting stuck in his throat.

The boss was a prick by nature and I'd been able to take his crap in the past, but when he fired me something went wrong in my head and I felt things unfamiliar to what I've ever experienced before. It was like this burning rage that crept through my body. I had worked there for three years, almost never been late, consistently had my weekly quota filled, except for the past few weeks, I was in a bit of a slump, but other than that, I had been pretty much a model worker. I began to consider what reason he had for firing me, I could assume it was random bullshit produced by the co-workers that hated me, naturally the list was that of the whole friggin office.

After the boss left, I sat down for a second, collecting my thoughts and meager possessions, a stapler, some loose paper, a Zellers flyer that I'd had in a drawer. It was there when I got the cubicle; I'd keep it as a memento.

A thought occurred to me, I can find out who accused me of whatever it was that got me fired with my power. All I had to do was sit beside someone and listen in. I figured I could come in tomorrow at lunch and just say I was collecting a few things and grabbing a bite to eat. By simply moving around the cafeteria, I'll discover who set me up. And then I'd gut them like a fish right there on the table.

The next day I was up bright and early, the sun was shining and it was yet another beautiful blue skied day. I awoke at the normal time I would go to work, did all of the usual; shit shower and shave, and got dressed for work. I never brought my briefcase to work because I never had anything to take home, it was a small brown leather briefcase that had been sitting in the corner of my apartment for years. Brushing off the dust I held it up and looked at it. Today was a big day for me. I felt better about going to work today than any other day, even if I was getting promoted to president.

A smile crept across my face.

"No more bullshit." I thought. A great sensation of joy and laughter overtook me and I broke out in hilarity. Tears streamed down my face and my gut started to hurt, I was laughing so hard.

It took about an hour or so to get to work and I needed to get there by lunch. It was about ten so I decided to leave, get there a bit early.

Walking down the street with my small brown leather briefcase in hand I couldn't keep a small twisted smile from creeping onto my face. _Today is going to be a good day. _I kept thinking.

The company occupied the twelfth floor of a building downtown in which I approached at about quarter past eleven. Standing in front of this monstrous glass box, I looked up and closed my eyes.

_Fuckin idiot, standing in the way, God I hate people like that. _I couldn't care who was thinking it, my eyes remained closed, I didn't care what random people had to think, all I wanted to find out was who stabbed me in the back.

As I got onto the elevator and hit the button I noticed another person that worked in the office with me. I recognized his face, but couldn't remember his name. As we reached the sixth floor he thought _that's gonna smell in a second, well, whatever, I can just blame it on him. _I maintained my concentration on the little florescent lights climbing higher and higher.

The first block of people were just starting their lunch break in a little room in the back of the office. I thought I might be able to get some information from someone there. Walking in I realized I had not packed a lunch, somehow forgetting that part of my daily routine. I grabbed a bag of chips and a Coke and sat down in a relatively crowded area. By focusing on each person I could hear what they were thinking without getting other thought cluttered up. The first person I concentrated on was a blonde sitting across and to my right a few seats. Susan I think her name was.

_I thought that loser got fired yesterday. Why's he here? Just don't make eye contact and he'll leave you alone, do not make eye contact. _Next was a fat guy chowing down on a sub, Lawrence I think, his eye caught mine briefly then concentrated his attention on his food. _I know I'm fat, and I'll probably never get laid, but I'm damn glad I'm not that sad son of a bitch. _"Cute" I thought, but not what I'm looking for, I continued to hone in on different people but all of them were just insulting not incriminating. I couldn't gut someone that just thinks badly of me. It's just not right.

The lunch ended and people scurried back to their cubicles to make more unimportant calls to unsuspecting people. I remained in the cafeteria and bought another bag of chips. The second block of people crowded in bringing the room to a low rumble of voices yet again. At first no one even sat near me. I couldn't hear any voices. Moments later two men sat beside and across from me. One was Jon Gillam, the other was Alex something or other. Jon sat across from me, nodded and smiled. He was my next target.

_Ha, that sack of shit got what was coming to him, I can't believe the boss actually believed that he was jerking off in the washroom. Hah, sucker. Wait, why is he here right now anyway? I heard his sorry ass get canned yesterday, everyone did. _

Gotcha.

Standing up, my gaze was affixed on the man across from me. He stopped eating as I stood up and looked right back at me. I smiled, pulled a hatchet out of my small brown leather briefcase and swung. It clipped him on the right side of his head, separating part of his cheek. He screamed, or gurgled in pain, I think I took off part of his tongue as well.

Everyone froze for a split second as I raised to hatchet above my head. Food hanging out of thier mouths, wide eyed co-workers. Half watching the body of Jon drop, the other half watching the bloodied hatchet. And by the time Jon was on the floor, presumably dead, everyone was trying to pile out of the small cafeteria door.

Standing there watching those people claw their way away from me I felt another sensation.

"Fuck it." I said aloud. Choking up on the handle of the hatchet I slowly walked towards the door. Maybe a third of the people in there had escaped. A woman was at the back, it was Sue Carroll. She was scratching away at the backs of others in a pathetic attempt to save herself. She looked back as I approached and abruptly turned and continued to claw away at her colleagues. Raising the hatchet I brought it down hard on the back of her neck. It made a loud crack and she dropped to the ground trying to hold the wound but her convulsions prevented her arms from controlling themselves.

More screams and cries and "please don't kill us, we never did anything wrong to you!" along with other pleas. I ignored them and began hacking away. I got this one guy in a suit right in the back of the knee, his leg collapsed in a direction I had never seen before, sort of bending off to the right. He fell on his side and rolled onto his back, screaming in pain, trying to hold onto his almost completely separated lower leg. I stood over him, realizing it was Jon's friend Alex. The smile which had never really disappeared crept up even moreso across my face as I watched him writhe in pain. Once again raising the hatchet and bringing it down on what I hoped was his jugular. He was the last one I could get in the cafeteria, everyone else had finally evacuated, telling everyone in the office to run for their lives. Some believed and ran, others remained in their cubicles and continued to dial numbers.

I felt good. I felt really good. Yet I knew something was missing. I wasn't fully satisfied. Walking through the columns of cubicles spread across the floor I would randomly hack at people that I recalled had thought bad things about me. This one girl, Gina I think, was sitting at her desk typing some kind of report on her laptop. She had her headphones on and was facing away from the entrance of the cubicle. She looked so innocent, but thinking back I remembered I was grabbing a coffee and she was beside me. I couldn't remember what she had thought, and at the moment I didn't care. Raising the hatchet and bringing it down squarely on the crown of her head. The two pieces of her headphones dropped to her sides and her fingers remained on the keyboard, but ceased to move. Removing the hatchet was a task; it had gone further into her skull than I had thought. Pressing on her shoulder blades I adopted a firm stance and wriggled the blade out. It popped like there was a lot of suction.

Finally it came to me. The boss, oh yes, he had to get his turn too.

The office was empty by then, police were no doubt on the way. I approached his door and I could hear his screaming about something to someone on the phone. I knocked politely twice.

"Fuck off, I'm busy." He screamed.

"Sir, it's Tom, I'd like to talk to you for a second, if I may." I really don't know why I didn't just barge in.

"Tom? Who the fuck is Tom? We don't have any Tom's working her you jackass!"

"Um, Leary, Tom Leary" This was becoming unbearable. I couldn't wait to see that bastard's face when he saw me. I was covered with blood head to toe, spattered all over the last fucking suit and tie i'll ever wear.

"Leary? What the fuck is your ignorant rat ass doing here you goddamn halfwit, you're fired! Don't you know what that means?" That was it. I opened the door and stood there, looking absolutely psychotic. That old bastard was going to get exactly what was coming to him. And he was all ready to stand up, actually get out of his chair, and bitch at me until he was red, well redder in the face. I had hoped for him to have a heart attack on sight, but not such luck.

_Holy fuck, I drove that poor son of a bitch insane. Well, I guess I shoulda seen it coming. Goddamn. _The piece of crap in a suit thought. I couldn't help smiling. It may have been ripping the muscles and tendons in my mouth, but I felt good.

"So what are you going to do now Leary? Ask for a raise or something? _Or a number for the nuthouse, you fucking loony! _I was surprised he didn't say it out loud.

"It's been too long" I said quietly.

"What? Speak up boy, I can't hear ya." The old man wheezed. It's funny, even in the face of death this bastard was still a prick.

There was no need to say any more. I lunged at him, sliding off his desk, pushing the old windbag into his chair. He let out a cough like I'd just broken his ribcage or something. Standing up, holding the bastard down with my left hand on his chest I steadied myself and hacked his nose off.

"Holy fuck! You sick son of a bitch! My fucking nose!" He cried. At this point blood began to pour down his face and the old man tries to get free, but to his severe disadvantage he is too weak.

"You, y you're gonna pay for this you son of a..." I didn't let him finish. Two hacks was all it took to take off that relics jaw. I tried to keep his tongue on, thinking that it would make the best mental picture for the future; unfortunately it was taken off on the second hack. He moaned and gurgled but I'd never have to hear his bitter voice ever again. I could still hear his thoughts, but that was soon corrected. Raising the hatchet a last time I brought it down almost parallel to the bridge of his nose, slicing both eyeballs simultaneously. The old man went limp, a small gurgle and he was gone. I left the hatchet in his face, I had no further use for it.

I walked out of the office and down to the elevators, pressed the button, lit a cigarette and waited for the doors to open. Surprisingly enough there was no one on, I expected the police to come bursting out. As I got on, the doors closed, the only thing I had regretted about the whole incident was forgetting my small brown leather briefcase in the lunchroom, I really liked that briefcase.

The elevator reached ground floor and the doors opened. There stood eight cops in riot gear holding semi-automatics with laser sight. Looking down I noticed each individual laser dot focused on my chest.

"On the ground, now!" A voice blurted. I could see the horrified looks on their faces. I had left a puddle of blood on the elevator floor, in which my knees were resting at the moment. Their looks were understandable, I mean, if it hadn't been me that had just fucked everyone up, I probably would have had a look similar to theirs on my face.

I was put under arrest and thrown into the back of a police truck. Soon after I was pushed into a cell; I spent a few hours in there alone, listening to the voices in the cells adjacent to me, there were people talking about escaping, football, and to my surprise, I heard something about me.

"You hear about that fuck Leary? A fuckin whack job if I ever heard of one." I didn't think my accomplishments had hit the news that quickly. I continued to hear these voices, sometimes talking about random things, other times about me. Hours later the steel door at the end of the hall screeched open and footsteps could be heard. Soon after there was a woman escorted by two guards at my cell.

"Come with me." She said coldly. For some reason I couldn't hear what she was thinking.

One of the guards unlocked the cell door and led me down the hall into an interrogation room.

I sat down at one end of the large black table, the woman sat across from me and both guards stood by the door.

"I'm here to ask you a few questions regarding what you did. Answer honestly." I smiled, she had very enticing eyes. Really emotionless, serious, she looked like somebody that didn't take shit. It probably should have been more intimidating than arousing, but hey, that's life.

"Alright." I said quietly

"For starters, are you still aware of what you did?"

"Of course, I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't going to remember it."

"Do you have any excuse for you're actions?" I had to think about that one.

"People are assholes."

"That's it? That's you're excuse?"

"Yup."

"So, you brutally murdered five people because they were assholes to you?"

"No, because five was all I could catch." I could tell she wanted to take out her sidearm and pop me in the forehead.

"There were several ways of approaching harassment in the workplace. Murder shouldn't be you're first resort."

"None of them harassed me."

"But you killed them because they were assholes?"

"You got it."

"So how do you know?" She questioned. I figured I really had nothing left to lose, so I decided to tell her the truth.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret," I said, slowly sitting up. "They didn't have to say anything to my face, all they had to do was think about it. I can read minds, like ESP, and everyone around me hated me, thought horrible things about me all the time. I couldn't take it I suppose. Besides, they had to be taught a lesson somehow." She looked confused. She scribbled something down on her notepad and looked up again.

"What lesson would that be?"

"I guess, the lesson would be that even if you work hard, and keep your worries to yourself, you're still fucked in the end."

"Cute. " She retorted, looking down at her notepad and scribbling some more. "These officers will escort you back to your cell, thank you for you're cooperation." She said as she stood up and left. I winked and sort of blew a kiss. She saw it as she was turning her head, stood and stared ahead of her for a second. 'Just to let you know Mr. Leary, I'll be doing anything and everything in my power to see to it that you receive the maximum penalty." And then proceeded to walk out the door. The two guards approached, I could see one of them reach into his pocket for something. He walked behind me and I felt something sharp go into my shoulder. I passed out.

Waking up hours, possibly days later, I sat up and looked around. This wasn't the cell I had been in previously, there were no bars here, only padded white walls and a padded door with a small padded slot at about eye level. A door was opened and footsteps approached my door, the cover slid open, two dark eyes peered in and snapped the cover shut again. The sound of keys unlocking the door and then the creak of hinges as the door swung open. It was the woman from the interrogation, except in different clothes.

"Tom, do you remember me?" Her voice seemed amplified; the drugs they had given me were still somewhat in effect.

"Yeah, where am I?" I asked

"We have placed you in a correctional facility. You see Tom, your case is very odd. While you were incapacitated we ran a series of tests. Judging on what you have told me, about your telepathic powers, I along with several other doctors have come up with something a little more logical than your ESP theory."

"Well, what is it?" She had me curious.

"Studies, including several cat scans, have shown that you, Mr. Leary are not in fact telepathic."

"How could you know? I can hear people's thoughts everywhere I go. It's never failed."

"No, Mr. Leary, I'm afraid not. It's not the minds of others you hear, it's within you. I'm sorry Mr. Leary but you have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. No one ever thought bad things about you."


End file.
